


teachable moment

by Darkfromday



Series: Arc-V Rare Pair Week 2018 [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: (are you really surprised by that), M/M, Mentions of Blood, Sora has shitty self-esteem while at Academia, Yuuri is... creepy, saving my fics from the tumblr monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 07:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16868308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkfromday/pseuds/Darkfromday
Summary: One more try,Sora tells himself. One more to master true Fusion summoning, one more to make himself indispensable to Academia. But something's missing from his attempts.(What's missing is agoodteacher.)





	teachable moment

**Author's Note:**

> prompt day 04: "monsters"
> 
> (also known as: I've watched too many subs and I'm now very Picky about them saying the original summon call rather than rapid-fire English silence-filling)

His lip is bleeding.

 _One more try_.

He can’t. He’s too distracted.

Tools of Academia aren’t meant to feel pain, or failure, or anything but pleasure at the progression of the hunting game. Instead he’s feeling the dual sting of self-made pain  _and_  failure.

But he must try again.

Sora summons Furnimal Bear and Edge Imp Sabers easily. Getting them out is breathing air. It’s not that the next part is  _hard_ –-he has been successfully achieving  _basic_  Fusion Summoning since age four–-it’s… just…

 _Basic Fusion is not_ real _Fusion_.

He tastes iron, and then acid when he fails to pose correctly (or say the words right?) and trigger the power he needs.

Sora _needs that power_. The mystical strength behind that chant that makes boys into soldiers, that sucks life from the world and feeds it to the beasts of Real Solid Vision.

 _One more try_.

Without that power, the Professor will never let him leave this dimension. He’ll never see a battlefield. Academia will expel him, if they don’t card him. His hometown will ostracize him.

“F-Fusion… summon…”

Sora doesn’t remember his parents. Not their faces, not their names. All he has is his certainty that they would turn him away too, if he fails here and now.

“ _Fu… sion_ …”

He’ll be alone, and he’ll have nothing.

 _Try again_.

He’ll be useless.

 _Again_.

He will  _be_ nothing.

 _I can’t do this. I **can’t**. I ca_–-

“What’s this?”

Sora nearly leaps out of his skin, nearly drops his precious cards. A boy is at the door of his practice room, examining him like a fascinating insect pinned for evaluation. And not just any boy–-no, it’s the Professor’s  _right hand_. The prodigy. One of the most venomous, cruel, and  _efficient_  hunters in all of Academia.

A monster.

And one of Sora’s idols.

He tries to speak–-to brush off his struggles and appear strong, or to ask what the other boy is doing there, or  _something_ –-but humiliation scalds his throat. He can’t explain himself, which can’t mean anything good for his future–-

“Breathe,” the boy says, with a grin so sinister it raises every hair on Sora’s neck. “Don’t you want to stay alive?”

“I…”  _don’t know…_

Sora shakes himself out of that mood, and somehow finds more words.

“I  _want_  to master this summon the right way. I  _want_  to bring my ace out for real so I can crush prey under my feet. I  _want_ –-!”

“Hush,” the other orders. “ _Yare yare_ , you may look cute but you talk way too much.”

_What’s that supposed to–-_

Sora closes his mouth (and his thoughts) with a snap, though any irritation he’s feeling subsides and anxious excitement spikes when the purple-haired beast of a boy glides closer to him, cape flaring like a battle flag.

“Don’t–-don’t come any–-”

Too late. He’s right there, leaning over Sora’s shoulder to see the cards in his hands.

“Ah~ a Fusion summon, of course. So what’s the problem?”

“There’s no  _problem_ ,” Sora snaps. Lies.

“Right… well, if everything’s fine, I can just–-”

He brushes against Sora, moving to leave the room and doom him to ignominy.

“ _Wait–-”_

“Oh? So you  _do_  need some advice from little old me on how to Fusion summon  _properly?”_

Sora swallows more acid, more blood. “…Yes.  _Please_.”

He needs this. This is life or death–-this magnetic, menacing kid is his only way forward.

“Well, since you said  _please_ …”

And he’s suddenly even closer,  _right_  in Sora’s space. He brings his long, spidery arms up to grasp Sora’s, guiding, puppeteering, making his doll flush hotly all over as he adjusts its posture and hand placement.

“ _What_ –-?” Sora gasps.

“ _Hush_ , Sora. Don’t think, don’t talk. Just feel.”

_…Feel?_

“You’re failing because your hands are in the wrong position–-and because you’re not putting your hate into this summon. When you bring forth you monstrosities, you don’t need to feel fear, or uncertainty. Those are  _weak_. You should be stronger. You should feel  _rage_ …”

His left hand snakes down Sora’s side, after tapping the cards as he refers to them.

“…you should feel  _hatred_ …”

The hand is lower, and stroking gently.

“…you should feel  _confident_  that you’re better than those filthy foreigners and their weak summoning. You should feel  _pride_  that you can bring them nightmares.”

Sora shudders. He’s hot, and intrigued, and desperate for he-doesn’t-know-what. More touches from this boy, maybe, or maybe just the fulfillment of his only desire and reason for being.

He ends up stammering. “B-but how do I…?”

“Once you have the feelings down, it’s all about having your hands  _here_ , and saying the incantation right,” the boy whispers right at his ear as he pokes and prods and adjusts his model. “Got your monsters ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course you do! The proper pronunciation is  _yuugou shoukan_. Call your monsters to action and to combine, then repeat that after me.”

It’s like a dream. A thousand failed attempts, and then he is rescued, given the secret wrapped in a bow by the farthest thing from a knight in shining armor. Sora exhales, says the chant for Des-Toy Scissor Bear, and–-after some more stumbles owed to his teacher’s hip massages this time–-gasps out the magic words:

_“Yuugou shoukan!”_

His ace comes out, terrifying and  _solid_ , powerful and  _real_. Sora could cry. It’s a miracle–-it’s a natural progression of his hard work plus a bit of luck–-and it’s wonderful. Just like that, his life is back on track. He can leave Academia with a little more training and practice. He can bring light to the heathens beyond.

All thanks to the Professor’s creepy, efficient favorite.

“…There now, doesn’t that feel better?” he’s saying seductively now, with heavy double meaning.

Sora gives his head and body a shake, and the other boy extracts himself and leans against the nearby wall like it was all nothing much.

“I–- _thank you_ ,” he forces out, to dispel the lingering tension. “If you hadn’t–-I really appreciate this…?”

He pauses, realizing for the first time that he doesn’t know his savior’s name. He’s never even heard it whispered by the other students, though the boy’s appearance and reputation carries far.

A grin nearly splits the boy’s face as their eyes meet. He looks  _manic_. Chilling. He looks like the kind of person one runs screaming from.

“ _Yuuri_. It’s nice to meet you, cute little Sora. I hope you use my gift well from here on out!”

“I will.”

Yuuri’s misshapen eyebrows lift, and he pitches his voice still lower. “I’m feeling very generous, Sora. Do you have time for another gift…?”

Sora freezes–-and then plays back those hands guiding his own, Yuuri’s voice synching with his own squeaks, the thrumming power of  _yuugou shoukan_  at his command. His monsters, ready to destroy and remake the world with him at last.

 _Hmm_.

He smirks.

Yes, in fact–-he has  _plenty_  of time to learn something new for the battlefield and beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> hey remember when one of our biggest internal conflicts was just what in the world the name of this ship even _was_


End file.
